Shortly after his death in 2000, family members arranging Charles Shulz’s estate and personal effects discovered a collection of rough animatics for a number of Peanuts animated specials that never made it into production. The story arcs were quite different from what had come before, and may well explain aspects of lead character Charlie Brown’s personality development over the life of the series. The following is a selection of the titles found.

A curious thing happened as I left work this evening. It was a pleasant afternoon, and I was in a good mood after a productive day. I resolved to enjoy the good weather whilst it were available to me, and walk the short distance to my house.

I set off out the door and rounded the corner of the main road onto the residential backstreets that led in the direction of my home. The leafy avenue was quite conducive to my calm reverie, and I soon found my mind happily wandering off into the playgrounds of idle thought.

Now, I’ve never had much interaction with dogs. My poor mother was frightfully allergic to all manner of small animals, and so I never had any pets whilst growing up. This didn’t bother me, as I would not describe myself as much of an ‘animal person’ at any stage of my development. I think animals could sense this disinterest I held for them, for they pretty well exclusively returned this air of ignorance themselves.

However, this evening seemed to elicit an altogether different response. For, every so often, I would pass a house that had a canine in the yard. I’d walked past these animals a number of times in the past, and barely received any acknowledgement beyond a flickered ear or casual glance as they dozed on the house porch or under a tree. But for some peculiar reason, every dog I passed this evening would hurry up to the fence line and regard me with silent intensity until I was well past. This strange behaviour was evidenced at least eight or nine times before I finally reached my home.

I must say it is the most unsettling experience I’ve ever encountered.

March 10

It’s still happening. If anything, it seems to be getting worse. I’ve noticed an increasing number of dogs wandering the streets without their owners. And every time they see me, they stop and watch me. I can’t begin to explain what could be responsible for this behaviour.

March 11

I saw a woman walking her dog past the shop window earlier today. Even from across the street, the dog sensed my presence, and the lady struggled to get the dog to continue walking. It eventually obeyed, and they continued on their way. None of my co-workers noticed the incident. I haven’t told any of them yet.

However, about 45 minutes later, the woman and her dog walked by again, now on this side of the street, right past the glass. The dog saw me, and would not budge no matter how the woman tugged on its lead. It jumped and pawed at the glass, though it didn’t seem at all threatening in its manner. If anything, it seemed quite friendly and excited, which is a reaction I’ve not seen any animal display in my presence before. Jared, one of the Shop Juniors, laughed and went outside to pet the beast and reassure the lady that it was doing no harm. It ignored him completely, and remained fixated on me, with its idiot grin and shining eyes.

I asked my boss to give me a lift home tonight. This is all getting quite upsetting.

March 14

There are dogs constantly outside my apartment now. They look stray, which would account for why no-one seems to have come looking for any of them. They get most excitable when I come out for any reason, whether to empty my garbage or to make my way to the bus stop. They bark and leap around me, wagging their tails in a most friendly manner, rubbing themselves against my legs. I could not possibly imagine what they suddenly find so interesting about me. It is entirely without precedent.

The slobber-marks on my clothing when I show up to work in the morning are starting to draw disapproving comments from my boss, but I really don’t see what I am to do to avoid the situation.

March 23

It’s been some time since I last wrote in this journal. The incident left me quite disturbed, needless to say sore. The injuries were fairly superficial, nevertheless the experience was such that I should never wish it upon the greatest of my foes.

The morning of the 15th saw a greatly increased contingent of canines awaiting me at the front of the apartment building. It must have been every dog in the nearby neighbourhood, a good dozen of them or more, and of various breed! They had gathered in a quiet manner, causing no fuss and without alerting me that anything downstairs was awry until I saw them all amassed there.

Upon my arrival in their midst, a great excitement arose in the pack, and they jumped up and ran all around me in a great stir, making all manner of noise! I spun around, trying to fend them off as best I could, until a large doberman reared up and struck me in the chest, knocking me to the ground. I rolled about, protecting my face as best I could, trying to regain my footing in this great roiling storm of legs and tongues and fur. And it was while in this prone position that I suddenly discovered just how excited they were.

Sexually excited, in fact.

With great enthusiasm, they mounted me every which way they could, upon my legs and one arm, my torso, even my head! That chihuahua… and it’s little red lipstick… darting in and out of my ear, all the while that alsatian pounded my thigh against the concrete… Gods preserve me, it just didn’t STOP, until every last one of them had been sated! It was utterly horrific!

I finally extricated myself and was able to run back up to my apartment, where I slammed the door and immediately launched myself into the shower still fully clothed. I’m not ashamed to say I cried in there, as I scrubbed the amorous results of their attack from the fabric of my shirt and trousers…

I’ve not left my apartment since that day. I order my food online and have it delivered. The delivery people tell me there are no dogs down there anymore, but I cannot believe them. Gods help me, once my savings run out. The beasts wait for me. They wait for my return so that they may torture me with their affections all the more.

This guy sat next to me on the train, a few weeks ago. He smelled like death, but also, oddly, of beetroot. I looked around. No-one else seemed to notice that he had the head of a dragon-fly. I shrugged. I guess it wasn’t important.

He caught me looking, and smiled, though I’m not sure how I was able to tell. He seemed amiable enough, and said to me, “Sure is cold out.” I could only agree. He mentioned he was on his way to Frankston, to visit his daughter. Said that she had moved out of home about eight months ago, and this was the first he will have seen of her since then. “That’s nice,” was all I could think to reply.

“I’ve missed her a lot.”

“Eight months is quite a long time.” I resumed my silent survey of the quiet streets outside the train window.

He shifted in his seat a little. My stand-offish attitude was making him a little uncomfortable, I think. Before long, he turned to me again and remarked, “You look quite a creative young sort. Tell me, do you perhaps play an instrument?” I told him that I dabble a bit on guitar.

“Ah, yes. I am a bass man myself. A Gibson EB-0 is what I play. Made in 1961, it was.”

“Oh, yes, a vintage man, are you?”

“Yes indeed, they certainly don’t make them like they used to!”

“No, that sure was some axe.”

“Hah! An ‘axe’ indeed. Yes.” This had seemed to amuse him. Shortly after, the train pulled into the interchange. He stood up, nodded to me quietly, and exited the carriage with a posture of grace. As the train pulled away, I noticed he had pulled out a bowler, and sat it upon his glistening head to ward off the light sprinkling of rain that had started to fall.

“We’re on a tram. We’re going through the industrial district! How can you smell nachos?”

“I smell nachos!”

“You always smell nachos. We could be deep down in a cave, far away from human habitation, and you would smell nachos.”

“Don’t hold me accountable for the prevalence of nachos cookery in the natural world. Did you ever consider that caves are possibly the natural habitat of nachos? Perhaps they thrive down there, away from humans.”

“Nachos aren’t a species.”

“Oh, its exactly that closed-minded bigotry that has lead to their virtual extinction outside of domesticated stock-rearing above ground level.”